


PEMDAS

by kansas_byrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark!John Winchester, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Incest, M/M, Not Beta Read, Rape, math homework
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 05:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20773643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kansas_byrne/pseuds/kansas_byrne
Summary: Dean is failing Algebra. His father has an idea to help motivate him.





	PEMDAS

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a porn I saw.

Dean, absorbed in staring helplessly at his math homework, doesn’t register when his father comes into the kitchen, which is a mistake. In fact, he hadn’t noticed it when he’d come home either, which is the epic clusterfuck of mistakes. He should have been long gone before his father had taken off his shoes, much less come in here.

John leans in close and asks, right in his ear ‘Whatcha doin, son?”

Dean jumps, cursing himself for doing this in the house and not the library. “H..homework, sir,” he says, hoping it’s as neutral a tone as possible.

His father smells of beer, and he has another, cold from the fridge. He puts it down on the table, and moves Dean’s work with one finger. “How you doing in math?”

He shrugs, hoping it looks nonchalant. “Not my favorite subject, but I do alright.”

The chuckle it pulls from his father makes his gut twist. “Liar. I saw the report card, you’re barely passing. Smart boy like you, failing math.” 

John ruffles his hair fondly. “Too many girls.” 

Dean swallows, his mouth is like cotton. “I uhm. Sammy’s getting out of school soon, I should go walk him home.” 

For one minute, it seems like he might be homefree. Gathering his stuff, he gets up, pushing the chair back, watery smile plastered in place. A firm hand on his shoulder stops him. 

“Now, Dean, Sam is old enough to walk alone. I know you think your old man is too drunk to notice, but I do know he has that stupid theater thing until four, so...you and I have all the time in the world to talk about math.”

Panicking, Dean tries to twist out of his father’s grip. “I’ll get a tutor. It’ll be okay, I swear I’ll get better.”

John smacks him, making him drop his books. For a timeless second, they stare at each other. “Turn around, Dean.” 

Dean’s slow to obey, so John pushes him, manhandling him to face the table, bending him over it. He slams the book down. “It’s bad enough that you’re taking remedial classes for Algebra, but to  _ fail them. _ I do not have idiots for sons. You’re not paying attention. Open the book.” 

Dean fumbles at it, frantically trying to find the right lesson, but he keeps skipping huge chunks of pages. He can’t concentrate, he can hear the sound of his father’s pants zipper behind him. John reaches around him and flips the pages for him. Dean can feel his hard cock as he does so, pressed against Dean’s back. 

“There,” John stabs at the page with a finger before backing off a little and grabbing Dean’s hips. “Read it.”

Dean stammers. His pants are pulled down to his knees. He can’t think. He wants to run, but he’s pinned to the table. He wants to run, but he knows what will happen if he does.

John slaps Dean’s ass. “Now, boy.”

“Oh.. okay. Um… the prime factorization of a composite number…”

His hips are lifted, forcing him to rest his weight on his elbows. The head of John’s cock starts pushing forcefully into his hole. He tries not to clench, whimpering through the pain. John pushes his head down towards the book with a jerk.

“I ...is the number written as a product of its prime factors. You can - you can - you can use factor pairs and a factor tree to help find the - the - the - prime factorization of a number…”

“Good,” John croons, fucking him in earnest now, his hands punishingly tight, gripping the purple and green of previous bruises. “Every time you fucking take a test….” 

He’s huge, so fucking big, slamming Dean against the table. Please God let him come, Dean prays, please make it stop. 

But he doesn’t come. He makes Dean read and read, holding off as long as he can until he explodes, pumping his son full with a grip on the back of his neck, forcing his face into the textbook. 

They rest for a moment, John finally pulling out with a satisfied sigh. “Every time you take a test, you’ll think of this. Don’t make me teach you another lesson.” 

Then he leaves the kitchen, zipping up his pants, beer in hand, leaving Dean to slump into a painful puddle on the floor.


End file.
